A couple of months after we got married I told Justin that I was sick of paying for his haircuts, and that I was going to learn to cut it myself. He was understandably somewhat resistant to the idea, but after a couple of months of badgering him to let me buy the clippers and give it a try he finally caved, when we fortuitously found a clipper set on sale.
The first time went pretty well, although I initially inflicted a bit of pain, and then was so overly cautious that it took me at least a solid hour or more to complete the job. I've gotten faster and braver since then, but occasionally he still endures some degree of discomfort during his haircuts. Justin does not suffer these discomforts in silence, I'm always alerted to the issue, pretty much right away, and I wouldn't say he's a real diplomat about it. I've never really understood why he thinks that's a good idea, seeing as how I'm standing there with the buzzing clippers in hand. Regardless, so far I haven't felt pushed to the point that I've felt a need to demonstrate to him whose in charge during these haircutting sessions. Although there's a part of me that wishes I had.
Anyhow, since he's been back in Idaho he's been going to the little military haircut place on base. He said the first one didn't go so well, and looking at it on skype I thought I could have done better. Today he went back and got the second one, and I loved seeing it on skype tonight. It's way too high, not at all faded, the lines are crooked, it has visible ridges in it, and is weirdly kind of lopsided. I love it! I love it because he also told me that it was very uncomfortable and in his words "if it had been you giving me that haircut I would have been yelling at you..." Which then of course begs the question why he just suffers in silence with this complete stranger butchering his hair in what was apparently kind of a painful fashion, but feels like it's okay to bark at the love of his life for allowing loose hair to fall into his ear. Naturally, I could not pass up the opportunity to point this out to him, and it was beautiful to hear him say "I thought about that too actually, that I should probably be nicer to you while you're cutting my hair." So whoever that woman is out there that butchered my husbands hair and made him look ridiculous, THANK YOU!
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Ten More Weeks
If you didn't already hear from me, when I was able to whine about this to you in person, I failed my final proficiency exams in listening and reading here at DLI. I did manage to pass the speaking portion, and I graduated from the course, so there's some small consolation in that. Graduation was on Thursday, and Justin's family made the trip out to Idaho to attend and spend the day with us. It was great having them here.
Unfortunately, graduating the course doesn't write a ticket out of this place if you don't pass the DLPT. What it means is that I will be detained here for another ten weeks of additional remedial training before I make another stab at it. So after a very long 24 months in TRADOC, with or without a passing grade, the Army will at long last let me go home, or to Idaho anyway, and I can't wait. In the interim, after several days of sitting around whining and crying to Justin about this situation, I've finally decided that maybe it's time to try and shake off the gloom, and gear up for Russian classes to resume again on Monday. I'm trying to look on the bright side, and remember that this is more money, it gives me a little more time to get ready to go run the Golden Gate Bridge (I decided when I first got here that before I leave I'm going to run it across and back, it's only 3 miles, but that's a long run for me), and maybe I can finally allow myself a visit to those outlet malls out in Gilroy. We've explored Point Lobos, and Big Sur, gone whale watching, visited Hearst Castle, Alcatraz, China Town, Fisherman's Wharf (in Monterey & in SF), the San Francisco Symphony, the Oakland zoo, Santa Cruz, the Monterey aquarium and the Jelly Belly factory. I'm not really sure what else to do here, but if anyone who reads this has a suggestion, let me know. I've got 10 more Saturdays here...and a budget, of course. :)
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Thank Goodness for Rehearsals
I'm closing in on the finish line here at DLI, and although for the last few months I was plagued with a sense of panic, I've now hit this lull where I have already accepted whatever fate awaits me in the final proficiency exam. On Friday I was subjected to a practice oral exam. I woke up with a cold Thursday morning, and by that evening was already sensing that the next day's exam had the potential to be something of a fiasco. The weird thing is how little I cared.
I rolled into class Friday morning feeling like I had turned into a one-woman snot factory, and found myself staring at the ground wishing that I could just throw myself down on the bare floor of the classroom and fall asleep.
Justin is already convinced that I have ADD, and that it's worsened by sleep deprivation. I've never put much stock in his theory, but when I found myself sitting in my practice oral exam during the second hour of class, and wondering if I could flick the ant crawling across the desktop hard enough to launch it onto the tester a few feet away, who was patiently waiting for me to formulate some sort of response to her last question, I probably gave a little bit of credence to that theory. The whole thing was a bit ridiculous on my part. Part way through the test I broke into a Spanish phrase that I could have sworn had been long forgotten. I was so startled by myself that I wound up just sitting there mid-sentence, mid-Spanish sentence, contemplating what had just occurred, while my tester assumed a look of confusion mixed with honest concern. When I finally recovered enough to muddle my way through some sort of semi-intelligible Russian response, she moved on to inquire what news stories I had recently read. Despite the literal hours I had poured into preparing for this particular question, the minute she asked I did a massive brain dump and just sat there with a blank look on my face trying desperately to think of anything besides "President Obama wants to take away my guns." Unfortunately, not much else ever came to mind and although it should embarrass me to admit it, that is pretty much what I wound up saying to her. She, of course smiled, nodded, and looked like she felt very, very sorry for me as she scribbled out some rather unflattering feedback on my test form.
I walked back to class, and honestly just didn't feel that bad about it. I know I speak far better than I did in that exam, and I certainly hope I manage to hold myself together and perform better on the real thing. We've been told that peppermint oil increases concentration (and there seems to be something to those claims), so Justin says I'm going to need to slather myself with the stuff before I go in for the real thing.
I rolled into class Friday morning feeling like I had turned into a one-woman snot factory, and found myself staring at the ground wishing that I could just throw myself down on the bare floor of the classroom and fall asleep.
Justin is already convinced that I have ADD, and that it's worsened by sleep deprivation. I've never put much stock in his theory, but when I found myself sitting in my practice oral exam during the second hour of class, and wondering if I could flick the ant crawling across the desktop hard enough to launch it onto the tester a few feet away, who was patiently waiting for me to formulate some sort of response to her last question, I probably gave a little bit of credence to that theory. The whole thing was a bit ridiculous on my part. Part way through the test I broke into a Spanish phrase that I could have sworn had been long forgotten. I was so startled by myself that I wound up just sitting there mid-sentence, mid-Spanish sentence, contemplating what had just occurred, while my tester assumed a look of confusion mixed with honest concern. When I finally recovered enough to muddle my way through some sort of semi-intelligible Russian response, she moved on to inquire what news stories I had recently read. Despite the literal hours I had poured into preparing for this particular question, the minute she asked I did a massive brain dump and just sat there with a blank look on my face trying desperately to think of anything besides "President Obama wants to take away my guns." Unfortunately, not much else ever came to mind and although it should embarrass me to admit it, that is pretty much what I wound up saying to her. She, of course smiled, nodded, and looked like she felt very, very sorry for me as she scribbled out some rather unflattering feedback on my test form.
I walked back to class, and honestly just didn't feel that bad about it. I know I speak far better than I did in that exam, and I certainly hope I manage to hold myself together and perform better on the real thing. We've been told that peppermint oil increases concentration (and there seems to be something to those claims), so Justin says I'm going to need to slather myself with the stuff before I go in for the real thing.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
What are you going to do...
Funny how I always manage to find time to blog while Justin is away. He's gone again, off to Idaho for another drill, and as always, he leaves and my life falls into chaos here. It's almost as if my company waits until he is safely away and then bombards me with as many inconveniences as they can in his absence. Regardless, it's been that kind of a week and I had just wrapped up our evening phone call and went into the bathroom to wash my face and get ready for bed. I was still thinking about our conversation that had just ended and was being a little absent-minded when I reached for the bar of face soap with my wet hand. I fumbled with it and it shot out of my hand, and of course directly into the toilet. Why is it that in this type of situation the bar of soap does not just bounce around on the bathroom floor? Because it's that kind of week, that's why. So I stood there with a wet face staring down at my soap resting peacefully there at the bottom of the toilet bowl, and after a second of considering my options figured what the heck, and reached down and fished it out. I rinsed it off with hot water until I was satisfied that the outer layer had dissolved, finished washing my face and it is now back in it's soap dish, slightly smaller than it was prior to it's adventures this evening. I know there are people out there reading this that are probably kind of grossed out, but the truth is, I don't care, because it's been that kind of a week and the best I can do this week is shrug my shoulders while I fish my soap out of the toilet and carry on.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Halloween on BART
Justin and I had tickets last night to see the San Francisco Symphony play. This is something that Justin has been looking forward to doing since we first decided to get married, so it was kind of a big deal. We had it all planned out that we would drive to the Fremont BART station and from there ride bart into the city, therefore avoiding the toll on the bridge, traffic, and parking fees. It all seemed like such a good idea. Unfortunately there were forces plotting against us yesterday, a major one being inexplicable heavy freeway traffic for a Saturday evening. We ended up arriving at the bart station much later than anticipated and Justin was...well, he looked a bit panicked about the whole thing. It was evident that we were going to arrive a few minutes late to the performance, and potentially enjoy the first piece from the foyer. He became even more frenzied when the bart train just sat at the station for 10 minutes before starting off.
When the train did finally start off it was running really fast and making up for lost time. We figured that we'd be okay. Probably still a little bit late, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. Then we arrived at the West Oakland station and the bart driver ordered everyone off the train because of a "medical emergency" at the Embarcadero station up ahead. Justin didn't really even say much he just sort of marched off the train in a silent rage. Once we got out on the platform and accustomed ourselves to the idea that we were now trapped on a bart platform in West Oakland, the Saturday before Halloween, we also started to take note of all the costumed riders from our train. Seems like half the train was headed into the city for a Halloween party. Riding bart on a regular day of the week is already a weird enough experience, riding it last night just took things to a whole new level. There was a grown man dressed as little orphan Annie, a mummy, some sort of slutty witch lady, a dragon, a yodeler, and what I believe was a man dressed as a peacock. I think that the peacock and little orphan Annie were actually a couple. There were also a countless number of women dressed in a costume that seemed to be composed only of sparkles and lots of exposed skin. It also seemed that most of these party goers were already pretty drunk...and there in the mix of it all are Justin and I, dressed for the symphony. As it turns out the "medical emergency" was a man who committed suicide by hurling himself in front of a train. After who knows how long of standing around out there they finally announced that the train in the station would be allowed to drive through Embarcadero station on to the next stop, and that anyone wishing to go forward needed to board immediately. Our stop was several stops after Embarcadero, so we rushed on and the bart train whisked us under the bay and through the Embarcadero station so fast that the only thing anyone could see were a bunch of police officers and bart people standing around.
We had to walk five blocks to the concert hall from the station, and we arrived just in time to catch the tail end of intermission. The good news is that the second half was the part Justin had wanted to see the most, so we did get to see that in it's entirety, and it was beautifully performed. We loved it.
After the symphony we figured that bart would be easy going compared to getting into the city. We were naive. On the way to the bart station we passed more costumed people. A ton of girls in cat outfits. Cat outfits are apparently very popular, and not terribly original. A storm trooper girl in a white sports bra and white spandex, along with a Jedi and Chewbacca, a man dressed as a penguin, along with his gorilla friend, a second yodeler, a banana, a whole series of slutty witches and vampires, and then the guy in high-heeled silver boots, spandex pants riding a skateboard through the city. The company on bart was similarly attired. What appeared to be a lingerie model (although Justin said that she was definitely not pulling it off very well), and a cute little angry bird girl that was really the center of attention on our train....for all the drunk riders. I think most of bart was drunk or high for the ride back. Embarcadero was still closed, and for seemingly no reason at all the trains were all moving at a turtle's pace. We were at LEAST an hour and a half, I think more like two getting back to the car. By then we were thinking that the hardest part of the evening was behind us, but again we're idiots. We took a wrong turn out of the bart station...because I told Justin to turn the wrong way, and let's just say that we spent 45 minutes correcting ourselves.
We finally made it to In-N-Out for some dinner at 1am, and the place was packed. Again, most everybody there seemed drunk, and there were more costumes everywhere, including the Snow White that wore a costume I'm positive I never saw in any Disney cartoon, and a Jasmine with her very stoned Aladdin. We got back on the freeway and headed home, and finally arrived back at our apartment nine and a half hours after our departure. I would say never again, but I know I'm too cheap to pay for the toll bridge and the parking, and previous bart trips have been totally uneventful, so the truth is that we'll try this again some other time. Lady luck was just not on our side last night, but if nothing else it was interesting. Next time I'm bringing my camera.
When the train did finally start off it was running really fast and making up for lost time. We figured that we'd be okay. Probably still a little bit late, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. Then we arrived at the West Oakland station and the bart driver ordered everyone off the train because of a "medical emergency" at the Embarcadero station up ahead. Justin didn't really even say much he just sort of marched off the train in a silent rage. Once we got out on the platform and accustomed ourselves to the idea that we were now trapped on a bart platform in West Oakland, the Saturday before Halloween, we also started to take note of all the costumed riders from our train. Seems like half the train was headed into the city for a Halloween party. Riding bart on a regular day of the week is already a weird enough experience, riding it last night just took things to a whole new level. There was a grown man dressed as little orphan Annie, a mummy, some sort of slutty witch lady, a dragon, a yodeler, and what I believe was a man dressed as a peacock. I think that the peacock and little orphan Annie were actually a couple. There were also a countless number of women dressed in a costume that seemed to be composed only of sparkles and lots of exposed skin. It also seemed that most of these party goers were already pretty drunk...and there in the mix of it all are Justin and I, dressed for the symphony. As it turns out the "medical emergency" was a man who committed suicide by hurling himself in front of a train. After who knows how long of standing around out there they finally announced that the train in the station would be allowed to drive through Embarcadero station on to the next stop, and that anyone wishing to go forward needed to board immediately. Our stop was several stops after Embarcadero, so we rushed on and the bart train whisked us under the bay and through the Embarcadero station so fast that the only thing anyone could see were a bunch of police officers and bart people standing around.
We had to walk five blocks to the concert hall from the station, and we arrived just in time to catch the tail end of intermission. The good news is that the second half was the part Justin had wanted to see the most, so we did get to see that in it's entirety, and it was beautifully performed. We loved it.
After the symphony we figured that bart would be easy going compared to getting into the city. We were naive. On the way to the bart station we passed more costumed people. A ton of girls in cat outfits. Cat outfits are apparently very popular, and not terribly original. A storm trooper girl in a white sports bra and white spandex, along with a Jedi and Chewbacca, a man dressed as a penguin, along with his gorilla friend, a second yodeler, a banana, a whole series of slutty witches and vampires, and then the guy in high-heeled silver boots, spandex pants riding a skateboard through the city. The company on bart was similarly attired. What appeared to be a lingerie model (although Justin said that she was definitely not pulling it off very well), and a cute little angry bird girl that was really the center of attention on our train....for all the drunk riders. I think most of bart was drunk or high for the ride back. Embarcadero was still closed, and for seemingly no reason at all the trains were all moving at a turtle's pace. We were at LEAST an hour and a half, I think more like two getting back to the car. By then we were thinking that the hardest part of the evening was behind us, but again we're idiots. We took a wrong turn out of the bart station...because I told Justin to turn the wrong way, and let's just say that we spent 45 minutes correcting ourselves.
We finally made it to In-N-Out for some dinner at 1am, and the place was packed. Again, most everybody there seemed drunk, and there were more costumes everywhere, including the Snow White that wore a costume I'm positive I never saw in any Disney cartoon, and a Jasmine with her very stoned Aladdin. We got back on the freeway and headed home, and finally arrived back at our apartment nine and a half hours after our departure. I would say never again, but I know I'm too cheap to pay for the toll bridge and the parking, and previous bart trips have been totally uneventful, so the truth is that we'll try this again some other time. Lady luck was just not on our side last night, but if nothing else it was interesting. Next time I'm bringing my camera.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Gangland Central...
Shortly after we got married and Justin joined me here in Pacific Grove we stumbled across a comment about the area online one day. The person writing the comment was a DLI graduate and was advising future DLI students to only live in military housing because everything outside of the base is "gangland central." We joke around about how we live in gangland central all the time, since we've never felt unsafe in the neighborhood. Truthfully we've never been able to figure out why people live in military housing since it is located on the old Ft. Ord 10 miles down the freeway from DLI. With high gas prices, and crowded freeways, it's never made much sense to us to live out there.
These last couple of weeks though our neighborhood has started to get really interesting. We always had the neighbor across the way that we call "the serial killer." He puts off quite a creep vibe, and there's something about the way he sort of lurks around that makes you feel like he's up to something. Then there's the guy below us that smokes so much pot that you get a contact high just coming up and down the steps, but that's about it.
Then a few weeks ago I was laying in bed allegedly studying, but actually sleeping with my textbook, while Justin was in the kitchen doing dishes when I woke up to a gunshot. It's weird how easy it is to identify that sound when you hear it. I knew the minute I heard it that it wasn't a car backfiring, it was a firecracker, it was a gun, and I started frantically shouting at Justin to get into the bedroom so that he could help me scout out the situation from the bedroom window. Within just a few minutes police cars started arriving and the police officers were blocking off the cul-de-sac up the hill where it seemed the gun had been fired, and detaining any pedestrians in the area. They were walking around with their weapons drawn barking at people to put their hands in the air, searching them....it was all very interesting and went on for several hours, with Justin and I practically falling out our window trying to hear and see everything that was going on out there. We eventually went to bed and read the next morning that the shooter was never caught, and that he had missed his intended target.
The next weekend we were sitting in our apartment minding our own business watching football on TV when our neighbor next door exploded into a fit of rage and starting screaming and throwing things around the house. We gather that his live-in girlfriend was trying to leave him, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that she was one of the things that got thrown around a little. She ran out of the apartment leaving him behind screaming profanities at her while professing his love. Very weird, and I truthfully found the event to be quite unsettling. She returned home less than 24 hours later.
Last night Justin and I were laying in bed sound asleep when we woke up to a voice outside of our window saying "what's going on here this evening?" We were both immediately awake, and Justin bolted up out of bed to open the blinds so that we could observe the woman outside being questioned by the police. We were able to ascertain that something weird was going on with her husband since he called the police to report that she was stabbing herself...which she clearly was not. Then there was some discussion about him telling the police that she hit him. Eventually they just loaded her up in the patrol car and left.
Aside from the incident with Justin watching one of our neighbors get hauled off in cuffs, it's been pretty quietly living here, and we honestly still don't think we live in gangland central, but I am starting to see what brought about that comment in the first place. I'd still rather be here than out on Ft. Ord, it's way more interesting here anyway.
These last couple of weeks though our neighborhood has started to get really interesting. We always had the neighbor across the way that we call "the serial killer." He puts off quite a creep vibe, and there's something about the way he sort of lurks around that makes you feel like he's up to something. Then there's the guy below us that smokes so much pot that you get a contact high just coming up and down the steps, but that's about it.
Then a few weeks ago I was laying in bed allegedly studying, but actually sleeping with my textbook, while Justin was in the kitchen doing dishes when I woke up to a gunshot. It's weird how easy it is to identify that sound when you hear it. I knew the minute I heard it that it wasn't a car backfiring, it was a firecracker, it was a gun, and I started frantically shouting at Justin to get into the bedroom so that he could help me scout out the situation from the bedroom window. Within just a few minutes police cars started arriving and the police officers were blocking off the cul-de-sac up the hill where it seemed the gun had been fired, and detaining any pedestrians in the area. They were walking around with their weapons drawn barking at people to put their hands in the air, searching them....it was all very interesting and went on for several hours, with Justin and I practically falling out our window trying to hear and see everything that was going on out there. We eventually went to bed and read the next morning that the shooter was never caught, and that he had missed his intended target.
The next weekend we were sitting in our apartment minding our own business watching football on TV when our neighbor next door exploded into a fit of rage and starting screaming and throwing things around the house. We gather that his live-in girlfriend was trying to leave him, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that she was one of the things that got thrown around a little. She ran out of the apartment leaving him behind screaming profanities at her while professing his love. Very weird, and I truthfully found the event to be quite unsettling. She returned home less than 24 hours later.
Last night Justin and I were laying in bed sound asleep when we woke up to a voice outside of our window saying "what's going on here this evening?" We were both immediately awake, and Justin bolted up out of bed to open the blinds so that we could observe the woman outside being questioned by the police. We were able to ascertain that something weird was going on with her husband since he called the police to report that she was stabbing herself...which she clearly was not. Then there was some discussion about him telling the police that she hit him. Eventually they just loaded her up in the patrol car and left.
Aside from the incident with Justin watching one of our neighbors get hauled off in cuffs, it's been pretty quietly living here, and we honestly still don't think we live in gangland central, but I am starting to see what brought about that comment in the first place. I'd still rather be here than out on Ft. Ord, it's way more interesting here anyway.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
And Just Like That Our Plans Have Changed...
My long awaited class break was last week. I flew to Idaho and met up with Justin there. The morning after I arrived I got to attend his promotion ceremony and pin him as a Specialist. I hit the battalion CSM when I threw the old PFC patch, and punched Justin so hard that he had to take a small step backwards, so I call it a success.
We spent a couple of days in Boise, and then drove to Utah to see my family. I got my name legally changed while we were there, and pretty much had a great time. On the drive back to Boise we detoured over to the Golden Spike national monument, and now we have an annual pass to all National Parks. Somewhere between Utah and Boise a filling in one of my cavities fell out...not really the highlight of the trip. However, I got it fixed in Boise, the next day and we went to McCall, Idaho with Justin's family despite the fact that half my face was numb and Justin couldn't talk to me without laughing. I rode a wave runner, and drove a wave runner, and was totally unadventurous on them as both a passenger and a driver. I don't like the way they bounce around on the waves, it kind of freaks me out. I'm a very bad swimmer...and the water was cold.
My week of blissful freedom did unfortunately end, and I'm back in Russian classes. I guess it was bound to happen.
Anyhow, while Justin was at his annual training his unit started telling him that he needed to transfer to another unit because they are planning to deploy next year, but they know he's been planning on contracting with ROTC and won't be going with them. They need to get his vacancy filled so that his replacement will be trained and prepared. After we got home Justin and I talked it over, and have decided that he will be staying with his unit and he will deploy to Afghanistan with them sometime late next year. We feel like this is what he should do, even though it doesn't make a lot of sense as far as his schooling, but whatever. We're not really sure where we'll be moving once I graduate from this place. Maybe Utah, maybe Boise...but probably not Logan. It's all just sort of up in the air right now. I'm excited for him, and very proud of him for stepping up and fulfilling his commitment, but kind of dreading the year without him at the same time. Such is life in the military I guess.
We spent a couple of days in Boise, and then drove to Utah to see my family. I got my name legally changed while we were there, and pretty much had a great time. On the drive back to Boise we detoured over to the Golden Spike national monument, and now we have an annual pass to all National Parks. Somewhere between Utah and Boise a filling in one of my cavities fell out...not really the highlight of the trip. However, I got it fixed in Boise, the next day and we went to McCall, Idaho with Justin's family despite the fact that half my face was numb and Justin couldn't talk to me without laughing. I rode a wave runner, and drove a wave runner, and was totally unadventurous on them as both a passenger and a driver. I don't like the way they bounce around on the waves, it kind of freaks me out. I'm a very bad swimmer...and the water was cold.
My week of blissful freedom did unfortunately end, and I'm back in Russian classes. I guess it was bound to happen.
Anyhow, while Justin was at his annual training his unit started telling him that he needed to transfer to another unit because they are planning to deploy next year, but they know he's been planning on contracting with ROTC and won't be going with them. They need to get his vacancy filled so that his replacement will be trained and prepared. After we got home Justin and I talked it over, and have decided that he will be staying with his unit and he will deploy to Afghanistan with them sometime late next year. We feel like this is what he should do, even though it doesn't make a lot of sense as far as his schooling, but whatever. We're not really sure where we'll be moving once I graduate from this place. Maybe Utah, maybe Boise...but probably not Logan. It's all just sort of up in the air right now. I'm excited for him, and very proud of him for stepping up and fulfilling his commitment, but kind of dreading the year without him at the same time. Such is life in the military I guess.
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